Alan's Bad Day
by Phx
Summary: Alan turned eighteen today. Too bad the day was out to get him...


_Happy Birthday, Alan Tracy! _

_A special thanks to Alaina for the quick beta. She told me this morning that today was Alan's birthday so I had to write something for him and this is it. And, no, I have not abandoned Head in the Clouds, I just have to finish Snap first and I've been sick. It has been a heck of a few months. Anyways I hope you enjoy this. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own them and make no money from them._

**Alan's Bad Day**

Alan sat on the edge of a small stone wall outside the hospital and sighed, tiredly. What a crappy day…

Not bad enough that one of his older brothers was still in the Intensive Care Unit after surviving a horrific hydrofoil crash mere weeks earlier, but the whole day itself seemed to have it out for the teen.

The day started promptly at 5:45 in the morning when a fire alarm went off in the hotel the Tracy's were calling home during Gordon's convalescence. It had badly startled Alan from a deep sleep and he ended up with a bruised tailbone (and pride) after he 'startled' right off the bed and onto the floor.

_God, his brothers were never going to let him live that down… _

Thank goodness only Virgil and John were there to witness his great fall at the time; Scott and their father had stayed the night with Gordon.

Then while standing outside shivering and bare-chested, in the early morning chill, a reporter had gotten him full in the face with a flash and a _'smile Mr. Tracy'_. Alan could easily imagine just what a wonderful picture _that_ was going to make on the front page of whatever tabloid the guy was from, his hair all askew, his feet bare and clad only in pajama bottoms (and yeah, apparently Tracy's were always front page worthy). Mind you, the pictures that the guy got of John and Virgil as they chased him half a block probably weren't very flattering either…

Then, when they'd finally been allowed back inside the building (damn false alarm), Alan slipped in the shower (again his poor tailbone) and got a lovely bruise on his cheek where he'd smacked into the soap holder on the way down. 'Cause you know, his morning had been just so spectacular already.

That commotion brought – to Alan's mortification – John into the bathroom wondering what the heck was going on (Alan would never admit that he screamed like a girl, after all he had some pride left). The older blond got to bear witness to Alan's bare 'witness' as legs and arms akimbo, it took the teen a couple of moments to right himself back up.

And of course that meant that Virgil had to check out his bruise and give him a lecture on being more careful. Thankfully, there'd been a towel in grabbing distance.

It was not bad enough John get an eyeful, Alan certainly didn't need Virgil ogling him as well, not that Virgil would have considered that a privilege or anything. It was one thing being exposed when he was hurt or sick or something but in a dumped up position in the shower like a deflowered virgin on her wedding night? No, friggin' assed way!

Then came breakfast which was a lovely fiasco of spilled coffee on his pants and egg on his t-shirt, requiring a second trip to the room to change before they could go to the hospital… By this time, Alan was almost afraid to go outside. But ever the brave little brother, the teen followed his elders to the taxi –

And got his fingers stuck in the door.

More concerned Virgil and an apologizing and horrified taxi driver later, Alan was declared lucky not to have lost any fingers (tell that to his painfully throbbing digits) and threatened with an x-ray once they got to the hospital. Just to be sure of course.

Alan had protested that his fingers were fine but Virgil was Virgil and with John as his wingman, the teen never stood a chance. Which of course meant more fussing and explanations for their father and Scott when they finally did get upstairs to the hospital ICU where Gordon was asleep. Or unconscious – sometimes it was hard to tell… But apparently (and luckily, Alan would begrudgingly admit) while the day hated him, it seemed more determined to embarrass him to death then anything else. In other words, his fingers were swollen, sore but unbroken. He did get an ice pack for his trouble though (and the nurse was cute).

Finally after his father and Scott left to get some sleep back at the hotel, and both Virgil and John had spent some time with a now awake Gordon (thank God), Alan got his turn –

And promptly tripped when the soles of his sneakers stuck to the squeaky floor and bashed his head on the edge of his brother's bed.

More commotion as Gordon was freaking out, nurses were scrambling and Alan just wanted to crawl somewhere and die; he was subjected to some alone time in the waiting room as John reassured Gordon and Virgil clucked at him (Ice pack was now doing double duty) and triaged the rapidly growing lump on his forehead.

Oh and did Alan mention? Today was his eighteenth birthday…

So here he was, sitting on the wall outside the hospital where he had escaped to in a moment of sheer frustration and embarrassment, promising his brothers (all three of them) that he'd be extra careful and not wander off. They seemed to realize how much he needed some time to himself and for that, he was grateful.

He just wished –

Well in the grand scheme of things what he wished for didn't matter so instead he sat by himself on his birthday and sighed. He knew it could be worse, after all Gordon had spent his own birthday in a coma. Alan shivered at the memory and closed his eyes. Why was he so surprised that his birthday was turning out to be so crappy when that pretty much summed up the first part of this year for the Tracys?

"Is this a private party or is anyone invited?" His brother's voice startled him (and wasn't that becoming the theme of the day) and Alan would have toppled off his wall if not for a quick and strong grip keeping him in place. "Geez, Alan, what the hell is up with you today?"

Alan turned sad eyes on his oldest brother and saw Scott's already worried gaze, worry a bit further as he undoubtedly saw the new mark on Alan's forehead. _Damn bed._

"I dunno," Alan stated glumly, "Day just hates me."

"I'm beginning to think so," Scott conceded as he reached out and gently ran his fingers over the still forming lump. "Ouch," his face furrowed in sympathy.

"What are you doing here?" Alan tried to take his brother's attention off him. "I thought you and Dad went back to the hotel."

"We did." Scott sat on the wall next to Alan, his piercing blue eyes appraising as they fixed on the teen. "And then we came back."

"Dad's here?" Alan glanced towards the hospital but didn't see the older man.

"Mhmm," Scott was still watching him.

"Where is he?"

"Upstairs talking to the guys."

Alan shivered under his brother's continued scrutiny. "Would you stop it already?" he finally groused, wondering if his family was in cahoots with this terrible day now.

"Stop what?" Scott put on his innocent face but Alan wasn't buying it. Being practically raised by his eldest sibling, he was pretty good at reading Scott, almost as good as John was actually.

"Stop looking at me!" Frustration bled into Alan's voice, his nerves shoot to hell by now.

"I'm just trying to figure something out," Scott placated, his gaze softening in the face of Alan's agitation.

"Figure what out?" the blond teen demanded tiredly.

"Whether or not you look any different today."

When Alan just stared at his brother blankly, not getting what Scott was talking about, the older man looped an arm easily around Alan's shoulder and tugged him in for a quick hug. "Happy birthday, bro," Scott's voice rumbled quietly in his ear before he released Alan and stood up. "What'd you think we'd actually forget?" He looked stricken and then grinned as Alan gaped. "C'mon, Al, we want to take you out to celebrate. Dad's made reservations at this swank ribs place across town. After all it's not every day a guy turns eighteen… and especially not my littlest brother."

Alan's eyes watered as something in his chest tightened. _They remembered._ In spite of all the worry and concern over Gordon and the comparative triviality of the day, Alan's family had remembered.

"But…" Still Alan hesitated, even if he did dare to stand up – Scott'd keep anything else terrible from happening to him, right? His eyes glanced towards the hospital, then back at Scott. "What about Gordo? He can't go with us…" Alan ached as he thought about his injured brother; he just could not imagine celebrating anything, least of all his birthday, without Gordon.

"_He's_ the one insisting we take you out. Get you away from here for a couple of hours. And after the morning you've been having, I think he's on to something, here. You need a break, kiddo. We all do."

Alan chewed his lip then gave a quick nod, "Okay, but only if we're not gone long."

Scott stuck his hand out for Alan to shake. "Deal," he said using Alan's hand to pull the teen towards him so they could walk back inside together.

And as their father, John and Virgil met them in the lobby with a recorded birthday greeting from Gordon (to be played at the restaurant apparently), Alan couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, his bad day wasn't so horrible after all –

At least until his _hot_ baked potato rolled off his plate and landed (and did he mention HOT??) right in his lap.

_Good thing, his father wasn't anxious for grandkids any time soon._

The End.


End file.
